


Tuesdays

by ThePeanutButterKid



Category: Station 19 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, More Trigger Warnings Inside, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Past Rape/Non-con, Post Partum Anxiety, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Proceed with caution, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 18:10:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18878515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePeanutButterKid/pseuds/ThePeanutButterKid
Summary: Two very broken people meet on a Tuesday in the waiting room of a clinic. Somehow, the find healing, hope, and each other.





	Tuesdays

**Author's Note:**

> Alright my dudes. This is heavy and it’s dark. It’s an in depth look at trauma and the road to healing. So, if you have dealt with trauma, I ask that you proceeds with caution and take care of yourself. I do not wish to trigger anyone. I’m going to give an in-depth trigger below.
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> **Trigger Warnings:**
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> **This fic has several triggers, including: depiction of PTSD, OCD, post partum anxiety, and other mental health conditions. This fic also touches on survivors guilt. I’m addition, the aftermath of sexual assault/rape and how this can affect relationship is also a theme. There is a (non graphic) depiction of both sexual assault (that resulted in a pregnancy and subsequent birth) as well as a depiction of the situation that caused Lucas’s PTSD and survivors guilt.**
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> **Furthermore, we see dissociation as well as anxiety attacks being triggered. We also witness the use of coping skills, mostly healthy ones (such as TIPP skills for intense feelings of anxiety). There is discussion of boundaries and things.**
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>  **IF I left any triggers out, please let me know.**
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> Also, here is the list of suicide hotlines to call if you need to talk to someone. 
> 
> http://ibpf.org/resource/list-international-suicide-hotlines

She first sees him in the waiting room.

Waiting rooms are usually sacred spaces, quiet and simple and calm. The waiting room in question is nearly empty, save for the aforementioned man that Vic notices. Everyone usually minds her own business, but Vic looks up from her book and he’s just staring. Not at her, Vic knows. His eyes are distant, fixed on the far wall, but not really looking st anything. 

His eyes a stunning blue, Vic notes. They look particularly haunted, which probably explains why he’s in the waiting room of Seattle Anxiety Specialists. Vic hasn’t seen him before, but she’s only been here three times, and this is the first time coming on a Tuesday. 

He shifts his gaze, and then they’re making eye contact. 

Vic looks down immediately, hands focused on the text she’s sending out to her mother. Mia’s cranky but won’t take a bottle, and Vic knows that Mia is being fussy because she’s gone. She hasn’t been away from Mia very much. But Vic needs this. Vic needs therapy. 

“Victoria,” her therapist calls out. Vic stands and walks toward the door. She glances once more at the man with the haunted blue eyes, and then she she disappears through the doorway.

He’s there the next Tuesday too. He’s staring again, and this time Vic manages a small smile in his direction. 

He’s grimaces, perhaps trying to smile, and his eyes are filled with pain. Vic can relate to that. 

Her mom sends her another text. 

“Your shirt worked like a charm,” the text reads. 

It’s followed by a picture of Mia. She’s asleep in her pack ‘n’ play. Vic is glad to see that the shirt is no longer next to Mia. It’s only supposed to help Mia sleep, but she can’t sleep in the same bed as the shirt. (It’s bad for her. It’s bad. Babies sleep safest on their backs. Babies sleep safest when there’s nothing in their cribs. And Vic wants Mia to be safe. She wants Mia to be okay.)

Mia looks cute in the photo, Vic thinks. People like babies, she wonders if he would smile at a photo of Mia. Probably. People like babies. Babies are good. They’re miracles, and Mia is no exception. Mia is a miracle.

“Victoria,” her therapist calls out. 

She stands again. This time, when she looks at him, he actually smiles. It’s small, the corners of his mouth barely tilting upward, but he smiles. 

The third week he’s there, she decides to sit closer to him. 

He doesn’t say anything. Neither does she. 

His eyes look less haunted, which is a good thing. 

Vic’s mom sends her a text. 

“Is it too early to introduce her to the wonder that is divorce court.?” The text reads. It’s accompanied by a picture of Mia sitting in her bouncer, looking intensely focused on at the television, where Divorce Court is indeed playing. 

Vic giggles. 

The man with the blue eyes looks up at that. Then, he smiles. 

Her therapist calls her name before she can say anything. 

The following Tuesday, there’s only one seat between them. 

She’s reading some trashy tabloid she grabbed from her mom’s house. Her mom hasn’t texted about Mia. And it’s fine, Vic knows. Her mom probably forgot. It’s fine. She is fine. Mia is okay. Mia is safe, even if her mom hasn’t texted. 

So, she reads the trashy tabloid and tries not to focus on her lack of text notifications. 

“I’ve always wondered what celebrities think of tabloids,” a voice says. It’s the man with the blue eyes. “I mean,” he continues. “Are they out shopping with their partner and they pick up a magazine and say, “Did you know we were getting a divorce? I didn’t know we were getting a divorce.’” 

Vic laughs. It feels good. 

“That’s something to think about,” Vic agrees. She pauses thoughtfully. Now I’m gonna wonder.” 

“I’m Lucas,” the man says. So, he has a name. Vic figured he did. He hold out his hand for her to shake. 

She’s smiles. “I’m Victoria. Most people call me Vic though,” she says. She shakes his hand firmly and without hesitation. 

Her therapist would be proud. 

“Victoria,” her therapist calls, and Vic stands. 

“It was nice to meet you, Lucas,” she says. 

Lucas beams. “Nice to meet you too,” he agrees. 

They actually start talking after that. Not for very long. Vic is only ever in the waiting for less than ten minutes. But they chat quietly. The waiting room ks empty. Most people don’t have appointments at 3pm on a Tuesday. 

It’s usually small talk about whatever tabloid is in the waiting room or whatever book Vic brings with her. Lucas is well read. 

On the third Tuesday after they’ve started talking, Vic shows Lucas the text from her mom about Mia. 

The current one reads, “Mean Mug.” It’s accompanied by a picture of Mia in her bouncer. She’s not crying, but she looks pissed. (She’s okay, Vic notes, because she isn’t crying. She’s not... there’s nothing wrong. Mia is okay. Mia is safe. Mia is allowed to look pissed. Babies get pissed for no reason at all. It doesn't mean anything is wrong.) 

“She’s cute,” Lucas says. “Looks just like you.” 

There’s a silent as the two of them mutually agree not to unpack that comment. 

She starts showing Lucas the texts about Mia every week. 

They make him smile. 

Vic kind of loves his smile. 

-X- 

There’s a protocol for everything, even therapy. Lucas likes protocol, but he hates therapy. He hates that the department forced him to see a specialist after he had an outburst in the middle of a scene. But he knows that it’s necessary. He knows that if he doesn’t get help. People will die. More people than last time. 

(It was a freak accident, something no one could’ve predicted. At least, that’s what everyone says, but Lucas owner believe that. He’s chief. He should be able to predict these things. Otherwise, he’s useless. He’s useless and more people will die and he can’t do anything to stop it and...)

His therapist says he has Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. 

(Lucas first thought she was ridiculous. OCD meant he liked things clean and he cared about germs. He’s a perpetual slob at home, and germs didn’t matter that much. His therapist says it’s a misconception. Misconceptions aside, the medication he’s spent the last 7 weeks on has already started to help him get a handle on things.) 

His therapist thinks he’s always lived with OCD. His PTSD just exacerbated his symptoms, which explains his outburst. It’s why he has to go to therapy every week. 

The department thinks he’s a liability. 

(They won’t say as much. That’s a lawsuit for discrimination on the basis of mental health.) 

He is though, he’s a liability. He was a liability, and that’s why people died. 

He follows protocol, and maybe that’s what hurts more. Rules aren’t supposed to fail him. They’re in place for a reason. Rules are the reason that his job works. 

He likes protocol, routine, rules. 

That’s why he likes the woman he meets in the waiting room. She’s nice, and she’s pretty. Her hair is brown and curly and her eyes are the most beautiful shade of brown he’s ever seen. She looks less sad than Lucas imagines he looks. His therapist says it’s okay to feel sad. 

The woman, Vic, almost always arrives to her appointment ten minutes early. 

(Lucas is always twenty minutes early. He’s always twenty minutes early because he leaves his office at exactly 2:20 on Tuesdays. No exceptions. It’s protocol, since he’s going to therapy. It’s the only reason he gets to keep his job. He stays late on other days to compensate. He doesn’t really see the point in going home. His house is empty, and he’s okay with it, just like he’s okay with staying late almost every night.) 

Vic also always gets called first, because Lucas’s therapist is perpetually late. It’s almost routine. She doesn’t poke her head out the door until 3:05p. And Lucas is okay with that. He gets to talk to Vic for ten minutes usually. It’s nice. 

She shows him pictures of her daughter. At first, it hurts, because Lucas looks at the baby and the only thing he can see is Gonzalez’s wife coming to collect his death benefits with their infant daughter in her arms. 

But then, he realizes that the babies look different. The babies are different. Vic’s daughter looks like her. She’s got a head full of jet black hair though, and her eyes are more hazel than brown. But she’s a cute baby and she looks like Vic. 

He likes watching the baby grow. And they sit and talk for ten minutes every Tuesday and she shows him pictures of Mia, and it’s okay good because she’s getting bigger. She’s a miracle and she’s alive. Babies are reminders of everything good in the world. 

Lucas resolves that he wants to see Vic for more than ten minutes on Tuesdays. It would be nice. 

He thinks he might ask her about it, but he can’t bring himself to. 

And then she’s not there one Tuesday. She’s been here every Tuesday for the last six months. He very nearly has an anxiety attack. His mind races with everything that could be wrong. 

(Intrusive thoughts are a bitch, because logically, Lucas knows that she’s probably fine. She could maybe even be better. Lucas doesn’t know.) 

He’s gripping at the handrest when his therapist comes to get him. 

His therapist has to help him pry his fingers away, and he’s shaking. He’s scared. He and his therapist talk about it. 

She’s back the next Tuesday. 

“Mia got a cold and spiked a fever,” Vic explains. “I figured it was best to stay home and give her some snuggles.” 

“I hope she’s feeling better,” Lucas says. His heart is in his throat. “I missed you last week.” 

“I missed you too,” Vic agrees. Vic shows him the update. Mia’s covered in what looks to be spaghetti. “Someone’s enjoying lunch,” the text reads. 

Lucas laughs. 

Lucas likes protocol. He doesn’t think there’s protocol for asking someone that he’s only known in a waiting room out. It doesn’t even seem appropriate. They don’t know enough about each other. It’s doesn’t. Theres no rules for it. There’s no protocol. He shouldn’t. He doesn’t anyway. 

“I usually get ice cream after this,” He says. “At the little place that’s next door. If you want to come. You don’t have to, I was just asking because the ice cream is good and you’re really nice and I wanted to...” the words tumble out unceremoniously. He’s usually more composed than this. (He was very composed at the funerals, all of them, the traitorous little voice in his head reminds him.) 

“I like ice cream,” Vic says. “It sounds good.” 

“Good,” Lucas says. He smiles. 

Vic’s therapist calls her name. 

Lucas is still smiling even as she disappears. He doesn’t stop smiling until he’s back in his therapist’s office. It’s a good day. 

They get ice cream afterward in the little shop next to the clinic. 

They talk more in depth than they do in the ten minutes that they usually have. 

He realIzes that she hasn’t shared much about himself when she asks, “What do you do for a living?” 

He knows more about her than she does him. It’s a weird exchange he realizes. They mostly talk about Mia and cheesy tabloids and bad books. 

“I’m a firefighter,” he says. Because right now, he doesn’t want the weight of Chief. He loves his job, even still, but sometimes the weight of his title feels too heavy. He could use a break. And being just a firefighter is a break. 

“Sounds like a tough job,” Vic says simply. 

“It is,” Lucas says. “But it’s rewarding too.” And it is. He loves his job, the good parts and sometimes the bad ones. “What about you?” Lucas asks. 

She averts her eyes form his and Lucas wonders if her job is sometimes a trigger too. 

“I used to work at a pharmacy,” she says. “I quit awhile ago, but I’m in nursing school right now. Other than that, I’m Mia’s mom full time.” 

Lucas smiles at that. 

There’s definitely something there, about her job, but Lucas won’t ask. He’s got his own secrets. 

-X- 

Ice cream is a good tradition. 

Vic tells her therapist that she likes Lucas. He’s a good man. She’s okay with him touching her, usually just handshakes and smiles and sometimes their hands brush. And Vic is okay with it. 

She wants him to meet Mia sometime, maybe, once Vic figures out exactly what they are. It feels like they’re more than friends. Like their Tuesday afternoons together have created a bond that can’t be broken. It’s stronger than friendship. It’s something else. 

She’s going to ask him the following Tuesday but he comes in and he looks completely broken. 

Vic doesn’t know what to say to him. She sits next to him and then she’s surprises even herself by reaching out and placing her hand on his. 

If her therapist notices when she comes out, she says nothing. 

Afterward, when they’re getting ice cream, Lucas finally speaks. 

“A year ago today, there was a huge fire in a skyscraper downtown. We had to call in as many units as we could to help get the fire contained. I was incident commander.” He breathes slowly, gripping his plastic spoon so tightly Vic fears it might snap. “The fire jumped floors, and we got word the building might be unstable. I made the call to evacuate. I had to follow protocol and minimize the risk to firefighter lives. And then the structural engineers said the building was stable enough to send it a rapid intervention team for some firefighters who were trapped.” Lucas’s voice sounds choked now. “It was protocol to send in a team once we got the okay to re-enter. I sent them in for a targeted retrieval, and the building collapsed ten minutes later. We lost seven firefighters. It was the deadliest event in department history, and I was responsible for that. And I know it’s now my fault, but my responsibility is the safety and security of the firefighters under me, and I failed them. Protocol be damned. I failed them. And I can’t believe it’s been a year since the worst day of my life.” 

And Vic knows the value of anniversaries, what they bring and what they carry. Vic’s therapist said she carried her trauma in her shoulders and chest. Vic never understood what that meant until now, until she sees the way that Lucas’s body seems to relax after he’s said it. He looks less tense. He’s grieving, broken, Vic can tell, but he’s released so much of the trauma he’s been holding on to. And Vic can understand that. 

“I’m sorry,” Vic says. “And I know that that probably doesn’t help much. But I’m sorry you had to go through that. And thank you for trusting me with it.” 

He smiles softly. “A year ago I don’t think I would’ve been able to speak to anyone about it, much less someone who wasn’t a firefighter. You make it easy.” 

Vic smiles. It has been easy to talk to Lucas. She’s been able to speak freely about Mia and how scared she gets when she’s alone with her, how often Vic wakes up with the thought that Mia is _dead dead dead_ , the way that it consumes her. She’s been able to talk about the fact that she had an anxiety attack and couldn’t breathe the first time Mia slept through the night, how it took Vic an hour to even get the courage to check Mia’s breathing. 

She’s not ready herself to talk about the reasons behind her own trauma. The reasons why being Mia’s mom is so hard sometimes. She might tell him one day, she thinks, and the realization surprises her. 

They sit in silence for the remainder of that Tuesday, but Vic has enough to think about with hjust her thoughts. 

-X- 

“Would you like to meet Mia sometime?” Vic asks. “She turns one on Friday. My mom wanted her to have a big party, but I don’t have very many friends, and she’s a baby, so neither does she” 

Vic is rambling. Lucas knows this. It’s kind of endearing, however. 

“We’re having dinner as a family on Friday,” Vic continues. “But on Saturday, I was gonna bring Mia here to try ice cream if you want to come.” 

“I’d love that,” Lucas answers. 

Vic inhales and then exhales. 

Lucas is positive that there isn’t protocol for meeting the one year old daughter of the person who spent the last nine months talking to in the waiting room of your therapist’s office. 

(If there is, no one ever told Lucas that.)

He decides that he should probably get her a present. Babies like presents. 

The internet has protocol for it. He ends up buying a puzzle that has big knobs that are good for her fine motor skills. Then, he buys her two baby headbands for her headful of hair. The internet says she’ll probably be more interested in the wrapping paper, so Lucas uses the brightest shiniest paper he can find and he wraps the gift. 

He gets to the ice cream shop half an hour early, and he busies himself with grabbing a high chair and wiping it down. 

The door chimes and in walks Vic carrying Mia. They both look absolutely beautiful, and Lucas beams at the two of them. 

“Hi,” he says, a little breathlessly. 

“Hi,” Vic replies. “This is Mia,” she says as she settles the baby into the chair. 

“Hi, Mia,” Lucas says brightly. “Happy birthday.” 

He hands her the gift. She opens it quickly, gleefully tearing off the wrapping paper. True to the internet’s word, she’s more interested in the shiny wrapping paper than the presents or the toys. But Vic notices. 

“Thank you,” Vic says. “This was very thoughtful of you.”

“It’s not problem for the kid who has made my Tuesdays so much brighter,” Lucas says. 

Vic beams. The three of them get their ice cream. Mia is more interested in playing with hers than actually eating, and Vic and Lucas chat idly about Mia and her antics. Lucas finds himself laughing, genuinely laughing. 

(His therapist says he’s allowed to feel happy. Lucas has tried to deny himself it, because there’s seven firefighters who were under him who will never feel happy again. But he likes this feeling. He’s allowed to feel happy. It isn’t his fault. It wasn’t his fault. He did his job and an accident happened, but it’s not his fault. And he’s allowed to feel happy.) 

She’s an amazing, incredible kid, and Vic is an amazing person. She’s smart and seeet and kind and lovely and...

(It’s here that Lucas realizes in a panic that he’s in love with her.)

-X- 

Lucas looks dejected during ice cream after therapy on Tuesday three weeks after Mia’s impromptu party. 

“What’s on your mind?” Vic prods gently. 

Lucas looks nervous. “My therapist says I’m doing well,” he says. “Really well. She wants to move me to biweekly appointments to see if I can manage. And I think that it’ll be good for me. But uh, she only has biweekly appointments on Wednesdays.” 

He’s rambling, but Vic understands his point. No more Tuesdays. No more waiting room talks or ice cream. No more Lucas. Vic feels dejected too now. 

“But I was wondering,” Lucas continues. “I really like you, and I really like talking to you and, uh, Vic, would you like to go out sometime? I know this great diner a little ways from here, and I was wondering you wanted to, uh-“ 

“Yes,” Vic blurts out, surprising herself. She hasn’t been on a date since... it’s been almost two years.

“Okay,” Lucas says. “It’s a date.” 

“It’s a date,” Vic agrees. 

Getting ready is nerve wracking. Vic doesn’t know what to wear. She ends up in a pair of jeans that are cute but not tight and a shirt that looks good on her. 

“You look nice,” her mom says. She and Mia are on the couch watching Paw Patrol. 

“Thanks,” Vic says. 

“Be safe,” Mom says. “I’ll call at 7 o’clock and if you need an out, then you’ll have one.”

Vic nods. She smiles. 

“I’m happy for you,” Mom says. “He makes you smile.”

Vic smiles at her mom. “He makes me happy,” she says. 

-X- 

Dating Vic is incredible. There’s no limit to their time together, not like Tuesdays. He sees her on almost all of his days off. Usually they go out to the park and Vic brings Mia. Sometimes, they go out to eat. 

One day, after they’ve been dating for four months, Vic invites Lucas up to her apartment for tea. 

(Mia is with her grandmother, but Lucas is careful not to make assumptions about what’s going to happen.)

She makes tea and the two of them drink it slowly. Vic likes her tea black, and she teases Lucas relentlessly for the amount of milk and sugar he places in his own mug. They drink their tea and then retire the the couch to watch some documentary. 

Lucas is watching Vic more than the movie, but he’s still surprised when she turns and give him a long kiss. Lucas kisses back. 

Her hands roam slowly, and they shift on the couch, lips still connected. It’s hungry and hot and it feels like fire. 

Her hands find his shirt and she removes it quickly. He kisses her again, his fingers brushing the bottom of her shirt. And then he feels her freeze. 

Her body goes completely rigid, as if someone has dumped cold water on her. 

Lucas starts to pull away. 

“Stop, stop,” Vic says, and Lucas fully pulls back. 

He knows he’s triggered something. He stands up and takes a step back. 

Vic is breathing hard, and she looks terrified. 

He doesn’t want to leave her, not now, when she’s on the verge of an anxiety l attack. He could call her mother, perhaps, but he knows he can’t leave her alone. 

(Being alone and having an anxiety attack is terrifying.) 

He takes a step back and settles in one place with his hand in a very visible position.

“You are safe,” Lucas says firmly. “You are safe, Victoria. You are safe. Take a deep breath.”

Vic looks up. Her eyes are filled with tears. She draws in a slow breath. “I am safe,” she repeats, mostly to herself. 

“What can I do to help?” Lucas asks. “Would you like me to call your mom?” 

Vic shakes her head adamantly. “Don’t call her. I’m okay,” she says. “I’m okay.” 

“It’s okay if you aren’t,” Lucas says. “I’m sorry that I triggered you.” 

“You didn’t know,” Vic says slowly. Her breathing is still ragged, even as she tries to steady it. She’s not out of the woods yet, if Lucas knows anything, she’s probably still very much in the middle of panic. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lucas asks. 

Vic grimaces, but she nods. “Can you get me some ice from the fridge?” She asks. “It helps when I have panic attacks.” 

“Of course, of course,” Lucas says. He walks to her fridge, grabs a cup, and fills it with ice. 

He returns it to her, careful to keep a small distance between them. 

She grabs the cup and then takes a piece of ice out. She squeezes her hand tight around it.

Lucas settles on her love seat, close enough to listen but hopefully far enough not to further trigger her. 

“Mia’s dad and I dated for six weeks,” Vic says. “I worked with him, at the pharmacy. He was a pharmacist. I was just a Pharm. tech. It was a good job. I liked it a lot. Then, he came to my house one night.” Vic’s hand clasps the ice a little harder. “We were watching a movie and he started kissing me and I, I didn’t want to, and.” She’s shaking now. “He didn’t care what I wanted. He made me. And after it happened, after everything happened, I was so lost. I quit my job. I couldn’t bear to be around him. I moved back here, to be with my mom. And I was lost. I had nothing, and then I had Mia. And she’s is my beautiful, perfect, incredible little girl. But her dad called me the day after she was born and said he was going to come find his daughter. And that’s what caused my post partum anxiety to spiral. And I love her so much. She’s the best thing that has ever happened to me. But I’m still learning to live with my trauma. I haven’t, I haven’t done anything with anyone since Mia’s dad raped me.” Vic is breathing shakily. “And I got scared because. I’m sorry.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Lucas says gently. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me about this.”

Vic grabs another piece of ice from the cup. “I just, I wanted to but I- I can’t do it. Not right now. I tried but I ruined it.”

“Vic,” Lucas says. “You didn’t ruin anything. I want you to be safe and healthy and happy in this relationship, and that means that I’m going to respect your boundaries and your triggers. I don’t want you to ever feel pressured to do anything, Victoria. I love you too much for that. We can follow your lead and go at your pace, wherever that takes us.” 

“Thank you,” Vic says. “Her Dad is in prison,” she adds. “Not for assaulting me,” she continues. “He got picked up for prescription drug charges. He’ll be there for the rest of his life. So, we’re safe. Mia’s safe.”

They’re quiet for a moment. 

“I should call my mom,” Vic says. “I want my daughter.” 

“Should I go?” Lucas asks softly. 

Vic shakes her head. “Stay,” she says. 

Vic’s mom notices Vic’s demeanor when she drops Mia off, and she and Vic retreat to the kitchen whole Lucas sets up Netflix. 

They return ten minutes later and Vic’s eyes are wet. She gives Lucas a watery smile. Vic’s mom leaves, and Vic flops down on the couch. 

Mia crawls up and curls against her mom’s side, snuggling in. 

“You okay?” Lucas mouths over Mia as he grabs the remote. 

Vic nods. 

Lucas settles on the other side of Mia and clicks play on Moana. 

He loses himself in the movie, and he doesn’t notice until near the end of the movie that both Vic and Mia have drifted off. 

He smiles to himself. He should probably head home anyway. It’s late, and he has work in the morning. He stands up, and gently taps Vic to wake her up. Sleeping overnight with Mia on the couch can’t be comfortable. 

“Hey,” he whispers, careful not to wake Mia. “I’m going to head out.” 

Vic nods sleepily. “Okay,” she says. 

Lucas turns to leave.

“And Lucas,” Vic calls out.

“Yes?” Lucas turns around. 

“I love you too.” 

-X- 

Being in love is a scary, terrifying thing. Vic knows this now. 

Loving Lucas is so different from the love she’s felt for anyone. There are different types of love for different people and Vic never quite grasped that until now. 

She loves Mia with her heart and soul and all of her being. Her love for Mia is all encompassing and it warms her. 

Her love for Lucas feels like a fire in her belly and her bones. She doesn’t know how else to describe it. 

She can’t even remember when she first felt it, only when she realized it. She realized it when she was sitting there on the couch, listening to him try to help her out of an anxiety attack. He was gentle and reassuring and kind and he was Lucas. He was the man that she had fallen in love with. And being in love was terrifying. 

Mia likes Lucas too, which is good, because Vic would’ve been heartbroken if Mia didn’t love Lucas. But she does. 

And Lucas is so good to Mia. He’s kind and sweet and he loves Mia. That much, Vic knows. And Vic loves Mia and she loves Lucas. 

It’s as simple as that, as easy as that, at least Vic wishes it was, but trauma is fickle and confusing and difficult to live with. And she will always live with it. 

So she tells her therapist that she wants to progress things with Lucas, and her therapist refers her to a couple’s specialist.

And she and Lucas go to therapy and they talk about boundaries and safe words and having a color system and using check-ins. And it takes time for Vic to open up. And Lucas is patient and gentle and incredible. 

The first time he spends the night, it’s an accident. He’s dead asleep on the couch after Vic puts Mia to bed, and Vic can’t bear to wake him up. She puts his phone on the charger and heads to her room. 

She realizes later, that it was the biggest display of trust she’s ever given him. 

The second time he spends the night, it’s not an accident. They’re watching How to Get Away with Murder and Lucas is yawning, his eyes drifting closed. 

“I should leave,” he says. 

“You’re falling asleep as is,” Vic says. “It’s not safe for you to drive. Stay?” She asks. And they both fall asleep on the couch, the evening news droning on in the background. 

The third and fourth times he spends the night are very intentional. Vic’s working on boundaries and desensitization and she wants to be close to him. He’s a comfort. He’s safe and he’s okay. 

And he spends the night and it’s okay. 

Vic loses track of how much he spends the night afterward. He’s there almost every night, except when he has to work, and Vic loves sleeping close to him. 

Occasionally Mia climbs in bed too, spurred on by a nightmare of the inability to sleep. She’s two and a half and she’s lanky and they usually wake up in a pile of limbs. And it’s nice. It’s good.

Vic thinks she might be ready soon. 

It ends up being Lucas who has the relapse. 

Vic only knows what happens because it’s on the news. There was a fire downtown. The building collapsed. No lives were lost, but that much doesn’t matter. Triggers don’t really care about recreating the entire circumstance. As long as it’s close enough. 

Lucas comes home in a daze, and Vic wants to strangle the person who let him drive like this. He’s as good as drunk. His eyes are distant, and he’s mumbling something over and over again about protocol. 

It takes her a moment to bring him back. She sits him at the table and then she grabs a cup and feel it with ice. She places it in front of him. 

He grabs the ice cube absentmindedly. Then, he squeezes tight. 

Vic can tell when his brain starts to return to his body. 

He blinks hard. 

“What happened?” Vic asks. 

Lucas shrugs. “I had an anxiety attack. Somehow, I drove here. I drove home.” 

Vic smiles softly at him. 

He doesn’t talk about it, but he goes to walk in hours at the clinic the next day and the next and then he comes home with less tension in his shoulders. 

It takes awhile to get past that roadblock, but Lucas does get better. 

Vic realizes what she wants to do while Lucas is putting Mia to bed one night. They’ve all but moved in together and they’ve integrated their lives the best they can. 

Lucas is reading Mia a story and he’s doing the voices and Mia is giggling and Vic is so in love with him and her daughter and her _family_. 

She ambushes him with a kiss when he comes out of Mia’s room and shuts the door. 

He kisses her back, softly and gently but with every bit of passion. 

They make it to her bedroom, their bedroom, and then Lucas hesitates.

“Are you sure?” He asks her. 

Vic nods. “I want you to make love to me,” she says. 

As they do. It’s patient and slow and gentle and Lucas is compassionate and generous and wonderful, just as he is out of the bedroom. It feels good, Vic realizes. It feels good because it’s Lucas l. And he’s generous and compassionate and understanding and he loves her. And she loves him, loves this. 

Afterward, when they’re curled up in bed (fully clothed in case Mia tries to make an appearance tonight), Vic tells him what’s been on her mind for weeks now. 

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” she says. 

Lucas kisses her head. “I would be absolutely honored to spend everyday with you for the rest of my life.” 

Vic smiles, and then gives him a long, teary kiss. She curls up against him and falls asleep: feeling both safe and loved. 

-X- 

“Guess what today is?” Vic says, looking up from her phone. 

“Uh, Tuesday?” Lucas tries, intentionally keeping his voice low. They’re in a waiting room after all. 

Vic is grinning. “Six years ago today, on a Tuesday, we met in a waiting room.” 

Lucas grins at the realization. He wonders why or how he didn't realIze it. 

It feels even more significant, given that they’re in a waiting room now. 

“Wow,” Lucas says. “I can’t believe it’s been six years.” And he can’t. 

Vic smiles. 

Lucas looks around the room, peering at all the posters of babies and pregnant women on the walls. He squeezes Vic’s hand. He knows the last time she was in this position, she was terrified. “You okay?” He asks. 

“I’m good,” Vic responds. 

(They’ll probably discuss the whole situation in therapy later.) 

Vic grins at him. 

Then, she glances to the floor where Mia (who is legally his daughter as of six months ago) is reading a book. 

Lucas kisses her head, and he takes a moment to reflect. 

Six years ago he went to therapy for the first time. Six years ago, he saw the love of his life in the waiting room of the Seattle Anxiety Specialists. Six year ago his life changed forever, and Lucas wouldn’t change anything, not for the world.

**Author's Note:**

> So, let’s talk: 
> 
> 1\. This is a work of fiction, written solely because I needed to process something. I do not recommend approaching someone in the waiting room of your therapist’s office. For some people, being in therapist is private. For others, it may be difficult to process small talk because of how anxious therapy can make someone. I just wouldn’t.
> 
> 2\. I have not experienced the trauma that either Vic or Lucas faces. I am a trauma survivor, and I tried writing one of them with my own trauma but found the experience to be too triggering. 
> 
> 3\. I tried to show that progress isn’t always linear, and that falling in love doesn’t magically make your mental illness go away. It doesn’t, but working towards helping is important to help create a healthy relationship. 
> 
> 4\. I’m aware the characters (especially Vic) seem a little ooc. However, trauma can fundamentally change the way your brain functions. It’s not a stretch to say that trauma compounded with mental illness can alter your personality.  
> 5\. Please let me know if I forgot a trigger or depicted something offensively. 
> 
> 6\. Thank you for reading. Please leave a kudo or comment. 
> 
> Thanks!  
> -The Peanut Butter Kid


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